Reality Check
by Jessiy Landroz
Summary: Same turtle, diffrent reality, will he survive? ... Mike centric [Progressing]


Chapter One: Original

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I inhaled slowly, savoring the taste of nicotine in my mouth.

It's been hours on my last cigarette, but seriously, trying to cut down ain't as easy as it sounds!

I leaned back in my nice, warm seat, watching the rain pitter patter on my front glass, the blinking lights of the train road's signal warning, ringing with it's usual ding-ding sound, as the roaring of the train as it zooms past my jeep is mixed with the pouring of the rain. The window next to the passenger seat is an inch open, yet the chilling breeze is whistling into the warmth of my vehicle, forcing my skin to prickle and shudder.

My cellophane rang, and I laughed, it was that stupid ring tone again.

'_Sonic the Hedgehog: Green Hill Zone. Man! Talk about old school._' I chuckled, fishing the item from my pocket.

Grabbing the steering wheel when the blinking red light stopped, allowing my jeep to pass over the train tracked, I was still swearing to myself to never let my three year old daughter choose my ring tone themes for me, she has no idea how embarrassing it was when that theme rang while I was at that meeting this morning! Stupid me forgot to put it on silent mode.

Good thing I'm the commander, or those little midgets would have laughed their asses off at me!

Putting the cigarette back between my lips, I carefully bit with my teeth as to keep it from falling off and burning my lap, I had such thing happening more often lately, I hate it; and then stepped on the peddle a bit, adding speed and rushing up the road, dashing with my jeep, fidgeting between keeping my eyes on the road and eyeing the device at hand.

It was a message, it was from my wife, at it said was '_I love you._' I chuckled and stopped the jeep, replying, '_I'm sleeping on the couch tonight, aren't I._' and sent it, muttering to myself and my damn line of work, I stuffed the phone back in my pocket and resumed my driving, inhaling another long moment, tasting the nicotine.

During the ride, I tugged a bit at my heavy bomber jacket, keeping in the warmth the best I could, I'm not too tolerant to the cold air, it makes me drowsy, and being forty years old just adds pain to the bones, you know? I like the cool air, don't get me wrong, but to stay out in the cold, bone cracking wind being completely bare is not my idea of a picnic!

Driving down the long, empty road, I reached my destination, the military base. I parked my jeep in it's rightful spot, grabbed the keys, the umbrella and then was just about to step out when the cellophane rang again, I picked it up and the reply '_You bet your sorry ass you are!_' was her answer; I sighed and hurriedly dashed towards the entrance of the building.

"Ah, welcome sir!" Tyler, one of the new recruits from my team greets me, accepting my dripping umbrella and offering me a mug of hot, black coffee, "We've been waiting for you."

"Yeah, it had better be for a good reason or else I'd be literally screwing someone's ass up a Christmas tree!" I growled, taking a sip from the warming drink, mixing with the taste of nicotine, '_Mona is so gonna kill me when I get back home._'

"Another fight with your wife, sir?" he asked nervously, guessing why I'm so angry rather sheepishly.

"None of yer business, squirt!" I growled threateningly, these kids are too damn nosy for their own good.

"Well, mister Stockman from the interrogation department wishes to see you, sir." Tyler told.

"Yeah? Well where is mister Frankenstein, anyway?" I muttered.

"I am right here, Agent Red." A voice spoke from behind.

I whipped around in start and saw him standing there behind me, with his white lab coat and reading glasses, his hands behind his back in a regarding manner, he was furrowing in distaste. The guy has dark African skin, and though he was also awful skinny, everyone knows he has one hell of a maze for a mind in that egoistic head of his.

Unlike Binary Bishop; looks are deceiving; I ought to know, for Agent Bishop ain't as normal as he seems. I mean, though Bishop looks like your average, every day clad-in-black secret agent, a human, I know that he ain't human At All! Heck, even my brother Dimitri thinks so, but we are yet to affirm that to ourselves with any solid proof!

He could out to be one of them Entity people, or maybe even an alien for all I could tell, being a genetic wizkid sure leans more to that concept, I've never seen anyone having fun dissecting things like he does, how freaky!

Anyway, Baxter Stockman might be a genius, but sometimes he's easily fooled, all it takes to distract him is to boast his bigass ego and then strike when he's not watching, that's why my brother, Dimitri is the head of the Baxter's department, plus the technical development department and the weaponry departments, he's the head boss over Stockmen, so whenever Stockman goofs up, Dimitri and Bishop are always on his case.

"Ah, Baxter Stockman, and in what do I owe the honor of having you disturb my day off?" I bit back a hiss.

To my irritation, the jerk smiled, "Ah, well we have a new 'subject' on our hands, and I thought you might be interested to meet this fellow." He explained simply, but at my glare, he continued, "After all, I thought you might be related."

I stared, "Related?" I questioned, and a strange feeling prickled my skin, "What do you mean?"

At that Baxter smiled, "Follow me, Agent Redfield, and I'll show you."

As much as I dislike this dude, I followed close behind, glad for the fact that I'm taller than him. Heck! I'm the tallest, biggest, meanest, scariest looking dude in the entire building, if not the entire military force! I fought my way up the ranks and made my way up to glory, with help from Dimitri, of course! If it hadn't been for his brain, and his security system, I would have been assassinated by now.

No one has the guts to oppose us, attack us or even tries to get in our way, Dimitri is always one step ahead for both our sake. I cover his back politically and diplomatically, keeping his projects and staff workers under extreme supervision and secret while funding his projects, making sure nothing slips out and the information is not being misused by power-driving people within the military, especially with us being mutants and all, some humans still consider us a threat and try to slap any crime on us to get rid of us.

So while I protect him using my granted powers, being all brawn and having more of a tactical brain than an level-headed one like his, he protects me by keeping an eye on those small things that I may not notice or slip by my attention, I guess those years in the investigation department keened up his senses; while continuously advancing his security system to protect me and my family.

Ah, anyway, I don't feel like dwelling any deeper into that.

Following Baxter through the wards, we reached the interrogation room's backroom, and we entered.

I ignored the startled attendants, they greeted me nervously and I simply greeted them with a simple nod, though I'm their superior, I've been taught to come down from my high horse and greet those who greet me, no matter what's their rank, or else I'd regret it one day.

Anyway, I pulled at the nearest headphones, and was busying myself by putting them on, while Baxter excused himself to enter the interrogation room where the so-said-suspect is being held.

I started sipping on my coffee, now that it cooled a tad bit, still warming my throat pleasantly, and mixing with the taste of cigar on my taste buds, but I chose to ignore the attendants who were eyeing me quizzically, that and when Baxter finally showed up. Of course, to anyone inside that room, what they're looking at is a big ass mirror! But on my side, it's a see-through window; I get to see the guys inside, but the guys inside don't see me, while the headphones are connected to receiving devices hidden under the bright light above their heads.

Baxter had walked into the room and removed the drapes from the window.

Once the drapes were lifted, I gawked.

For a moment, my mug itself almost slipped out of my grasp, but only when the hot liquid hit the nice, clean tiled, waxed floor, and splashed on my military pants, the slight heat touching my skin and hitting my nerve system, did I snap out of it.

It was a kid! Barely seventeen, with jade green skin, wavering between forest green and sapphire blue; he was- bare? No, not exactly, he wore an orange mask-like sash over his eyes, with holes for his eyes and tied behind his head, the dangled over his shoulders like braids; he wore brown, protective leather-like pads on his elbows and knees, wrist bands, too; and also a belt with- nunchucks on the table.

I stared at the amazing wonder before me, and I realized what I was looking at.

It was a turtle youngling!

A turtle, just- like- me? Like me and Dimitri, but what really shocked me the most is that he was a carbon copy of Miguel! But Miguel was assumed dead after his disappearance in the Red Wolf wars six years ago, and he was already thirty five by then, so who is this kid?

"Amazing, isn't he?" her voice startled me, and she eyed me with her brilliant green eyes.

"Ah, April." I furrowed, embarrassed to have been caught gawking at the suspect, "Where- ?"

"That's when we're tying to figure out," she smirked, probably pleased to have caught me off guard, "allow me to put on the audio." She flicked a few buttons and turn on a tab, adjusting the headphone's speaker volume.

The voice of Baxter and the young turtle finally flowed in.

"-lling you the truth!" the turtle youth argued, sounding a tad bit whiny and desperate, "I Am Not from around here, and I'm looking for my brothers! I don't know how I got here, but I have to leave!"

"How can you leave when you don't know how you got here in the first place?" Baxter growled.

"How the shell should I know, dude? You're the brainy one!" the orange masked kid complained, throwing his arms up in the arm, emphasizing his frustration, before he then pouted childishly, crossing his arms over his plastron.

I allowed myself a smirk, humored at the way he censored the word 'hell' with shell.

"If Donny was here, he would have helped me," he then said a little more calmly, "but to do that, I have to find him first, and I cant do that when you peeps are pickling me in here!"

"Ah? And who is this Don?" Baxter questioned, arching a brow.

"Geesh! For a mad genius you sure are slow, Stockman." The kid replied, "He's my bro! I already told you! Don can beat your brains on any time during any time with his eyes closed and his arms tired behind his shell!"

I furrowed, the sounds of this Don guy sounds awful familiar.

April offered my a paper towel and I accepted it, I attended to wiping the coffee stain from my pants and army boots.

'_I bet Dimitri would love to meet him._' I smirked, placing the now half empty mug on the nearby counter.

"Oh really?" Baxter grumbled darkly, "And I assume you two were separated at birth?" he mocked.

"Heck no, dude! We're a quad, not twins!" the youth grinned, though a hint of annoyance was still there.

Stockman looked anything but amused, he was willing for a kill right now, hah!

'_Woo! I love ticking Stockman off, he's so much fun to tease._' I smirked and stifled a chuckle, now picking up my mug, I took a sip, my free hand pressing a little on the headphone to listen to the conversation.

"Leo, Raph, Don and me! Sweet, innocent little Mikey!" the orange masked youth said proudly.

I shook my head and wondered if this kid was really a suspect, he seemed too gullible, but since looks are deceiving, them maybe I'm missing something, a hint or a trait or something, I don't know.

"What?" the kid then argued, "Did the Shredder take out your brain when you weren't looking?"

At the mention of that foul villain's name, I was so shocked, I almost spit my coffee on the screen, and some of it almost went up my nose, and I chocked, stuck staggering in a coughing fit! For a very long moment, the kid did not look so gullible anymore, it was that he was too smart but hid it well, or he was just so dumb, he appeared smarter than he looked.

But at any case, I wondered if he had any connections with Leopard. After all, that traitor of a brother is working for that foul villain, so if Leo is working for the Shredder, and this kid did mention his name, so- ?

"Ah! Are you alright?" April popped from her chair and handed me another paper towel.

I waved a hand at her, trying to get my focus back to their conversation.

"So there are four of you, eh?" Stockman asked, "And one of your brothers is 'Leo' you say?"

"Leonardo, dude. What? Do you have a short term memory or something?" the kid arched a hairless brow ridge, looking utterly confused.

Stockman grit his teeth and glared, he sure looked peeved, "And now I assume you'll say that you four are Ninjas as well?"

"We sure are!" the kid replied proudly, "So how about you let me go already, before Raph runs you through?" the youth pouted, childishly.

I put down my now empty coffee mug, wiped the remaining coffee stains from the corner of my face and plucked off the headphones, I am going in there and I am going to talk to that kid, face to face. I ordered April to stop recording once I'm in and Baxter is out, simply because something inside of me told me that conversation is better off privet, and I heck don't want Bishop catching me.

I stopped at the interrogation room's door, wondering how the kid will react to seeing an older version of his specie.

After all, my brothers and I were the only turtle men on earth, we're the last three of our kind.

I waited until Baxter stepped out of the room, grumbling darkly to himself about the youth of today, and something about disrespecting their elders, so ignoring him, I allowed myself in, stepping into the room, I slowly locked the door, inhaling slowly, I turned around to face the orange masked youth, but his reaction to my appearance startled me.

"Raphie!" he screamed, and surprisingly, I felt his arms wrap around my neck, jumping on me and latching into what felt like a deadly bear hug.

"Say what?" I cried and ripped him off me, shoving him away.

"Whoa!" He staggered, dropping to his tail, with a tiny yelp and whine, he pushed himself off the floor and rubbed his sore tail, and then gawked up at me in hurt shock, "Ow! Geez Raph! That's not a very warm welcome!"

I glared, ignoring the odd prickly sensation zipping down my spine, now busying myself by dusting my bomber jacket and straightening the collar, "Listen brat, my name ain't Raphy, it's Redfield!" I growled.

He stared, blinking in sheer and utter confusion, paused and then hesitantly, took a step closer to me, peering up to my face, "R- Redfield?"

"Yeah, Redfield, but everyone calls me Red, sounds friendlier, I guess." I shrugged a shoulder, half confused that I haven't strangled the kid for hugging me, half confused why I was being so damn nice, "Who're you?"

"Um, Michelangelo." He said, rather timidly if I may add.

I gestured to the chair, "Sit down, we need to talk." I growled, and made my way towards the drapes, pulling them over the glass, cause knowing Baxter, he'd be watching, and I don't want no witnesses.

The kid was hesitant, but listened, he pulled a chair and sat down at the table, silently watching me.

I huffed a breath, and waited until the small red light over the window turned green, and relaxed, April had just switched the monitors off. I didn't want Ape to flick them on and eavesdrop on the conversation, and even without ordering her to, even if Baxter demanded her to turn them on, she knows that I wouldn't allowed it, so she wont turn them on again while I'm here.

The kid still eyed me wearily, and I can tell he was probably eyeing the three purplish scars on my cheek and over my left eye.

"What?" I growled, pulling the cigarette pack from my pocket, "Never seen a giant, walking talking turtle before?"

"Um, in case you haven't noticed, I happen to _be_ a walking talking turtle," he flashed a nervous little smile, "and, um," he paused, gaining my attention, "I don't think you're supposed to smoke in here."

"What?" I whined, "I need my dose of nicotine, damn it!" I pulled out the short, white stick, pulled out my match box and lit it, soon sucking on the nice, murky taste of cigar; I huffed out the wisp of smoke.

He wrinkled his snout in slight disgust, "Note to self: when back home, never let Raph smoke." He grumbled under his breath.

I ignored him and sucked on the white cigarette between my fingers, trying to calm my agitated nerves down and relax; it's amazing what lack of self control does to you, and because I don't want to scare the kid, I had to keep my temper in check, he looked very confused and I sense no foul play in his mood, he looks sincere and- lost.

"So, care to tell me about yourself, kid?" I murmured, lazing back in my chair.

He blinked, furrowed and then scratched his snout, "Um, Hamoto Michelangelo, I'm sixteen years old, single and looking." He grinned playfully at the last part, but then sobered up at my stern glare. "Um, I have four brothers, and- shell! You have no idea how much you look like one of them!" he commented wearily, "Of course he's younger, much better looking, and don't have all these scars littering his face, and he's defiantly not a smoker."

I gave a growl, it emanated from the pit of my throat, and thankfully, he got the message.

"Right, well you sure do have the temper, too; that's for sure." He pouted.

I inhaled on the cigarette again, a bit slowly, and then let out another wisp of smoke, "So, where you from?"

"Um, New York." He wrinkled his snout.

"Australia, New York?" I asked bluntly.

"Ah, no, I'm from good ol' Amarica, the United States, New York, New York." He smiled.

"Right." I bit the tip of my cigarette, "Where in New York?"

"Um, would you believe the sewers?" he sheepishly shrugged.

Something in the pit of my stomach splashed, cold and uneasy. So this kid used to live in the sewers, too? Since when? I thought we were the only ones who mutated because of the ooze, so could it be that there were more than just the four of us, and father missed one? That cant be, cause this kid said that he's one of four, so would that mean that there were eight turtles? If so, then why did father pick up only four? Was he unable to carry the rest, or did he not see them? That doesn't make sense!

"Any other family besides your brother?" I asked, my voice deep and cold.

"Um, yeah, master Splinter." He stiffened, probably cowering under my glare.

"Master?" I blinked, taken back.

"He's our teacher and father," he grinned, "he's a rat."

I arched a quizzical brow, wondering how anyone could say such a thing about their father.

"You know? Fur and tail and all?" he explained.

I gave him a '_Oh!_' expression, since I never had a father, I let it slide, "Right, anything else?"

"Um, no, I don't think so." He smiled at me hopefully.

For a very long moment, I visually scanned him, trying to detect any odd behaviors in his body language or anything of the like, while something in the pit of my stomach bothered me, it nagged on me, telling me that I knew this kid, from _some_where, that he was telling me the truth, but I just didn't know, or remember him for some reason or another.

I don't remember my childhood very well, if any of it at all.

As far as I could remember, when I was about six or younger, I was in the sewers, away from the lair, I don't know why; I swept away by some flood, a drainage pipe exploded and swept me away and almost drowned, being sucked down by the torrent, unable to swim up to the surface for air. I remember that's when Grace found me, she saved me and took me in, she became my foster mother.

For many years all she did was love me and raised me as her own son, I remember she tried to help me, we were trying to find my brothers, but I was young and couldn't remember where the lair was, and when I realized I will never find them, she held on to me and refused to leave me, she treated me like her child, never like a replacement for the son she lost exactly one year before she found me.

I moved out with her to Mexico, and after the end of the Red Wolf wars, and the acceptance of the mutants among the human race, being accepting as people, after I reunited with Dimitri, I moved back to New York and signed myself in the military, and step by step I rose through the ranks, through the toil, until I became the head of the espionage department, specialized in infiltrating, and Bishop became my head agent.

I have a very blurry memory regarding my origin and past, and I do recall that there were others like me, but I don't remember them very well. Aside Dimitri, being in the military for so many years together, then my many deadly encounters with Leopard, and then there is my missing brother, Miguel's probably the only one I never really knew.

For a moment I wondered if I had a father, Leopard said something about me abandoning the '_clan_' and '_master_' or something, but I never understood what he was yelling about. '_I need to talk to Mom, maybe she can tell me something that might help._' I told myself.

"Hello?" the orange masked kid called, snapping his finger in front of me, "Hey, anyone home?"

I glared, never dare to flinch, cursing myself for zoning out, "So anyway," I pretended that my daydreaming never happened, "what was your name again?"

He rolled his eyes, "Michelangelo, but Raph always calls me Mikey." He smiled, rather hopefully, paused and then tilted his head, "So, um, Red? You have any brothers?" he asked curiously.

"No." I lied and shrugged a shoulder, still wondering why I was being so damn friendly.

"No? What about your dad?" he asked, growing a little pale.

"I don't have a dad, I've lived with my mother." I stubbed the cigarette on the table, ignored his crestfallen and awestricken face.

"Your- mother?" he stared, confused.

"Get up." I ordered briskly, standing up.

He was nervous, but complied and stood up, "Um, where are we going?" he asked.

"Back to your room." I muttered.

"Eh? No! Please don't send me back to that cell again! That room reeks! It's worse than my bedroom back home!" he complained childishly.

I arched a brow, a bit humored, '_Dirty room, eh? Heh, typical teenagers.'_ I flattened a smirk and gave him a visual once over, "Sorry, but that's where you're staying kid." I murmured, not really giving it much of thought, "Who knows, maybe if you're being cooperative, they'll let you out."

He sent me the biggest, most pleading puppy dog eyes, it's almost as bad as my little baby girl's! "But I don't wanna go back in there! That warthog reeks! And the Rhino isn't any better! They have flies orbiting their heads, for crying out loud!"

I rolled my eyes, realizing that he was talking about Bebop and Rocksteady, "Would you rather be in a single cell, then?" I hissed, growing irritated at his whiny complains.

He pouted, "No! Can't I at least be somewhere clean?"

"Kid, it's a prison cell, live with it!" I glowed and then hit the button in my pocket, signaling that I wish to leave the room, "Be a good boy and maybe I'll grant you pardon, so until then, you're stuck with me kid."

"Aww…" he whined, paused, blinked, and then gasped, "Wait!" he cried in sudden realization, "You're the one in charge here?"

I flashed him a lopsided smirk as I walked out, "See ya tomorrow!"

"Wait!" he begged, but too late, the door slid closed behind me.

Somehow, I did not feel too happy, something about that kid made my stomach flip-flop and it did not put my worries to ease, on the contrary, it made things worse, popping more and more questions the more I think about them, and I highly disliked it.

'_Once home, I need to get laid, hit the shower and then call mom, I seriously have issues to deal with this kid._' I grumbled to myself, pocking at the cigarette pack again and fishing out the last cigar, '_I wonder if Mona's in a forgiving mood, and if she's willing to try on those black silk panties she bought last week._' I allowed myself a grin, musing over my wife's gorgeous curves.

Stuffing my hands in my pocket, I ignored stockman when he allowed himself entrance into the interrogation room, and I made my way towards my office, I might as well get some paper work done before I head back home.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

A/N: A new story project. Yes I know I haven't finished 'When We Soar' and 'LOSS' yet, but I really needed to do something else, but don't fear, I might be going back to those two soon, but it's slow, so bare with me :3


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